


Changes

by MichisAccount



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The White Queen (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:31:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5389250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichisAccount/pseuds/MichisAccount
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On 22nd August 1485, Richard III of England lost his life in the Battle of Bosworth. What would have happened had he won the battle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Richard had hoped never to see such carnage on English soil again.

He had hoped never to see a battle fought on English soil again, and yet here he stood now, overlooking the Redmore Plain, hearing the moans of the wounded, seeing the bodies of those fallen. Too many. Too many dead. Not only the rebels, the traitors. The ones who had started this battle, had been deserving of death and had found it, on this field in the middle of England, in the swelteringly hot sun. Not only them; nor only their soldiers had found death this day. So many of his men had as well.

It had been a short battle, nowhere near as long as that at Barnet or that at Tewkesbury had been. Shorter even than some skirmishes at the Scottish border he had fought in the years before his accession, and yet it had been more devastating than any of the others.

It had been a victory, certainly, a resounding one too, but standing in the heat, smelling the stench of fear and death, it felt like anything but. John Howard was dead, had fallen in the very beginning of the battle. Robert Brackenbury was dead. Richard Ratcliffe was dead. John Kendall was dead.

Francis -

Francis was dead, too, had been knocked off his horse even as Richard had been watching, had been able to do nothing for him. He had fallen into the mud and had remained lying motionlessly, like one of Katherine`s dolls that had been thrown away.

They had killed Francis. All the death, all the destruction that had come about because old Henry of Lancaster`s nephew`s greed and treason, had claimed his life as well.

Dying in battle, quick and painless, was not a proper punishment for this. It was not enough, nowhere near enough. They should have suffered for this, and it was this thought that Richard clung to now. The fury coursing through his veins, still overlying the grief. The thought of revenge.

Now was not the time to focus on the dead. Not when -

He turned away from the grisly scene in front of him, to find himself faced with the remnants of his army, the few remaining of his closest men. Rob, standing next to him, visor up, face streaked with dirt and sweat. Thomas Howard, hand still on his sword. His soldiers, his squires, awaiting his orders. Waiting for him to take charge, none of them saying anything since he had barked at them to shut up just after Jasper Tudor`s army had finally been defeated, the remaining men fled. Some of his own had set off in hot pursuit, and when it was over, for only a moment, Richard had stood frozen, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

But now was not the time for it, and swallowing, he squared his shoulders. He should probably say something encouraging, as he had always done at the Scottish borders, as Ned had taught him first at Barnet, then at Tewkesbury, but he found no words for it, instead barked: “I will have word on those who set off in pursuit of the traitors! Stanley is to be brought to Leicester and beheaded next to his son. Find William Catesby and throw him in the darkest cell you can find, there to await my pleasure.” He swallowed, a mixture of sadness and even more fury at the thought of the damn man welling up in him. He had given him everything he could have possibly wished for, and this was how he had repaid him?

He would die, and he would deserve it. Unlike so many who had been killed today. Who had -

“Find a horse to throw Tudor`s and his nephew`s body over!”, he interrupted his own thoughts, voice cold. “Bring them to Leicester as well. Have the nephew hanged on a gibbet, for all to see. Do what you will with his uncle.” Looking into his men`s baffled faces, seeing them not moving, he roared: “NOW!”

Some of the soldiers bowed at that and hurried away, but Rob came closer to him, looking worried. “Richard”, he began, then broke off when Richard scowled at him. “What?!” “Do you - think this is wise?”, his friend asked hesitantly, after a moment. “Should you not have them thrown on a cart and buried as quickly as possible, like the non-entities they we-” He broke off again when Richard gave him a cold stare. “We have but one cart to transport bodies in dignity”, he said, voice icy now. Surely Rob of all people should understand? Was he being deliberately obtuse? “I will have Francis brought to Leicester to lie in state in the abbey, and then brought to London so -” He swallowed again at that, grief threatening to overwhelm him, and it took a moment for him to finish: “- to lie next to Anne, so I might one day lie between them. I will not have his body tainted by being in the same cart as his murderers.”

Rob nodded at that, face pale, and Richard turned to Thomas. “See that it is done!”, he ordered, sharply. “Your lord father will be brought to Leicester in honour as well, but first I want those responsible punished!” He scowled, turning again towards the field of carnage in front of him. “I wish Jasper Tudor had not lost it at his nephew`s death”, he growled. “He had no chance to win, and he took my chance to make him suffer for what he did.”

“Richard.” Rob said again, and Richard whirled around to him. “Do not tell me it is not decent to speak so about a defeated enemy”, he snarled. “Do not. They don`t deserve the decency you give a dead dog. They tried killing me two years ago already, would have killed my son. And you know what they did today! Francis -” But his voice broke again at that, and he simply glared at Rob, who nodded again. “I was not going to say that”, he said, and for a moment, Richard felt like slapping him, for sounding so calm. But the vile impulse was gone as quickly as it was come. He could see the pain in Rob`s eyes as well.

“I -”, he began, when he was interrupted by a shout of “Your grace! Your grace!” and he spun around to find one of his squires whom he had sent away to fulfill his orders hurrying towards him. “Yes?”, he asked. “Have you caught Stanley?” “No, your grace”, the man panted, bowing. “Your - your presence is requested in the surgeon`s tent, your grace.”

Richard stared at him, not knowing what he was playing at. The surgeon`s tent-?! “Why? Who dares disturbing me now?”, he demanded coldly, and the man recoiled a bit, sinking into an even deeper bow. “The - the Lord Lovell, your grace.”

Richard could feel his knees suddenly give way beneath him, and he only remained standing because Rob immediately took him by the arms. “Lord Lovell is dead”, he said, voice shaking, now quite certain he had never felt so furious before. Shaking off Rob`s hands, he stepped towards the man and despite the fact he was barely shorter than him, took him by the collar and nearly physically lifted him up. “If this is meant to be a joke, it is a very bad one, and I shall have you punished for it. Branded. Tongue cut out.”

Dimly, he heard Rob take a sharp breath and was aware he was exagerating, but he did not care. What did this man think he was doing? Who did he think he was? Francis was not yet dead an hour, and he thought -? Releasing him, he removed the metal gauntlet he was still wearing and slapped the man as hard as he could. “Lord Lovell was one of the best men this country has ever seen”, he thundered. “And you dare - you dare - making jokes about his death?!”

“N-no, your grace”, the man said, hesitantly, recoiling again, before saying quickly. “He is not dead. T-Thomas Stafford brought him in just when the battle ended.”

Again, Richard felt his knees buckle. Francis was alive. He was alive. It was unbelievable - he had seen him fall himself - but the man in front of him was to frightened to say anything but the truth, and incredulously, he turned to look at Rob, who was staring at the unlucky messenger in front of him as if he was one of the Lord`s disciples. “Lord Lovell is alive?”, he repeated hoarsely, and the man nodded, looking miserable. “He is very unwell, though. They thought he would not wake up at first, and even now he is in peril for his life.”

“Tell me all. Now.”, Richard commanded. “I saw him fall, and you claim he lives.” The man bowed again. “I - As I said, he was brought in by Thomas Stafford. He - he was moaning only a little, else he looked dead. He just woke up, and asked for your grace, but I`m afraid - he is delirious. Does not understand what he is saying.”

“Bring me to him”, Richard commanded, still not quite able to believe his ears. “I wish to see him now, be certain you speak the truth.” He saw the man go pale, saw also the reddish beginning bruises where he had slapped him, but felt nothing. No regret, no shame. He could not, not when he was now torn between new hope and fear.

He had just started walking behind the hapless messenger, taking so big strides the man almost had to run to stay ahead of him, when again, he was startled once again by a shout of “Your grace!” and he spun around. “WHAT?!”, he roared, and the man hurrying towards him, wearing the Howard cognisance, gave him a shocked stare. Only for the fraction of a second though, then he appeared to have got his composture and said: “William Catesby has been captured and imprisoned, my lord.”

“Good”, Richard said, and then, already starting to walk again, towards the surgeon`s tent. “You may give him a message from his lord sovereign. Tell him to pray his treason will not be responsible for Lord Lovell`s death. If it does turn out to be, then may God have mercy on him, because I will not.”


	2. Chapter 2

The visit to the surgeon`s tent had done nothing to allay Richard`s fears. On the contrary, seeing the terrible bruising on Francis`s chest, hearing his gasps for breath and, perhaps worst of all, seeing his friend stare at him without recognising him even as he murmured his name had only made him more afraid that his short-lived hope would be disappointed. That his miraculously alive friend would die after all.

The surgeon`s words, his obvious fear in the face of Richard`s frantic order to save him, the worry he had expressed Francis would not even live through the journey to Leicester, had only made it worse.

There was nothing to do now but wait to see if today`s battle would claim Francis`s life after all. If, along with faithful John Kendall and gentle Robert Brackenbury and cheerful Richard Radcliffe, Francis would also be on Tudor`s conscience. Funny, fiery Francis ...

“I can`t lose him too”, Richard muttered when he and Rob left the tent, left behind the physicians planning a journey that might very well end in death for his friend. “Not after Anne, and Ned. Not him, too.” He looked at Rob, almost pleadingly. Almost hoping that Rob would say something comforting, like he had when he had been afraid as a child. But his comptroller only shook his head. “Don`t think of it, now”, he said. “You have to focus. See to it Stanley is caught and executed. Will -” He stopped short, but he did not need to say more. Richard knew what he had meant to say. Who he had meant to address but thought better.

“You can say his name”, he therefore said. “William Catesby.” He growled lowly. “I gave him everything. Possessions, honours, land, power. And how did he repay me? How?!” He took a deep breath. “I will get to him, don`t worry, and he will regret having ever even thought of betraying me.”

Rob regarded him as their squires brought their horses and those of their men Richard had not sent away with tasks earlier got ready to ride into Leicester with them. He did not speak immediately, and only when they were both in the saddle did he ask: “What do you intend to do, if you don`t mind me asking?”

“I will wait what happens to Francis”, Richard answered. “If - if - he does not survive, there will be no mercy for anyone. Wi - Catesby will suffer a full traitor`s death. Northumberland will be imprisoned and can count himself lucky if I ever leave him out again. And any and all of Tudor`s men I catch will be hanged, drawn and quartered. Anyone who helped the damn traitors even with a wrong thought will be found and punished. I will not forgive.”

Again, this was met by silence. Richard thought he saw Rob nod, but he said nothing, and they rode back to Leicester without saying a word. As they approached the city, were admitted, Richard could hear cheers, curious citizens clapping and shouting his name, but he did not look to them. He wanted to hear no adulation now. No possibly feigned congratulations for his victory. He only wanted to return to his lodgings in Leicester Castle, and forget everything around him, lose himself in organising all that needed to be until he received news.

News that Stanley had been caught. News that Francis would recover. If that did not happen ...

Rob was right. He could not allow himself to dwell on that possibility. Could not allow himself to think of Francis`s rattling breath as he stared right through him with empty, feverish eyes.

As his breath rattled almost as much as Anne`s had in the last, desperate hours ...

No. Richard squared his shoulders. Neither of them would have wanted for him to lose himself in those thoughts. He threw a look at Rob, who was pale but looking determined. He would help him now, do the tasks Francis would have usually done. Giving orders such as still had to be given.

“Tudor`s mother will be confined to a convent”, he said, loudly, so Rob could hear him. “We need to be checking exactly who gave information to that whoreson so he knew of my movements and that of my men.” He growled again. “I want to see them all punished.”

Rob only nodded again, only spoke when they had finally arrived at the castle. “I understand.” Richard took him by the arm, the hard armour feeling cold, almost reassuring under his hand. “I know you do.”

They walked in silence into the castle, Richard ignoring the men who tried to catch his attention as much as he had the citizens in the street. He had no interest in feigned worry - or worse, actual worry. If he thought of Francis now, he would break down. He did not want to to hear any questions, any assurances, and when the closer he came to his chambers, the louder and apparently more desperate the clamours for his attention became, he stopped walking. “Unless anyone had new information, I do not wish to be disturbed”, he roared, glaring at everyone. Dimly, he was aware he was being unfair, but he could not bring himself to care.

“Is that understood?”, he thundered, and was gratified to see a few nods, saw wariness on a few faces. No one was to think they could scorn his orders. No one would ever doubt the consequences of disobeying or displeasing their king again -

“Richard.” Rob`s voice, soft, careful, startled him from these grim thoughts, and when he look in his friend`s face, he saw him frown. “Richard, have you not listened? Stanley`s been caught and brought here. He is awaiting you in the cells.”


	3. Chapter 3

Stanley could not have had to wait long when Richard entered the small - and, he noticed with grim satisfaction, suitably dark and dank - chamber where he was held, and yet he looked terrible. Richard had never seen him appear as anything but self-possessed, even in the most unlikely of situations, but there was nothing left of that now.

For the first time since he had known him, Thomas Stanley looked disheveled and nervous, and Richard noted with vicious glee that he was sweating despite the fact the chamber was cool and damp. He deserved to suffer.

Richard had ordered anyone but the guards standing by the door to leave, so that he now faced Stanley alone, and for a moment, he simply stood and glared at the man. Whom he had forgiven a betrayal before, whom he had rewarded for loyalty that had been only feigned after all, and whose treachery and self-serving had ended now in the death of many good men.

The most vile of traitors, a man who had pretended to be loyal. Who had assured him of his loyalty while giving help to the enemy.

“Judas”, he growled after a long moment, and Stanley recoiled slightly. “Self-serving, traitorous piece of -” “Your grace!”, Stanley interrupted him, falling to his knees. “Your grace, please allow me to explain. I never -”

This was too much, and seeing him grovel on the ground, Richard kicked out at him, missing the man by the fraction of an inch. “You dare interrupting me?”, he thundered, and saw the last remaining colour drain from Stanley`s face. But that did not seem enough now. He wanted him to shiver with fright. He wanted him to suffer for what he had done.

“I didn`t join the -” “SHUT UP!”, Richard roared, and the man fell silent. “I know eactly what you did, and you will pay the price for it. You and your son. I forgave you your treason two years ago, and how have you repaid me? By helping your wife`s brat of a son in his attempt to usurp my throne. And what did you hope to gain from it? Did you think he would make his stepfather his closest advisor?” He gave a harsh laugh at the look on Stanley`s face, taking some gleeful pleasure from the fact that he was now visibly shaking.

Hopefully, he had finally realised what he was facing. That nothing could save him now.

But this notion was dispelled when, a moment later, Stanley started speaking again. “Your grace. I didn`t fight against -”

At that, Richard exploded entirely, and this time when he kicked out, he hit the man. “I am entirely aware!”, he thundered, bending down to pull the man up by his collar, slamming him against the wall. “I have seen you do nothing to help. Do nothing as Norfolk died, as my secretary died, as my chamberlain was attacked.” He took a deep breath, growled again. “What did you intend to tell Tudor? That you simply waited for the right opportunity to intervene for him? Perhaps that is what you were doing?”

“I - I -” Stanley began, but he apparently found no words. “I -” “- will die”, Richard said, coldly, finishing the sentence for him. “Today, in front of a jeering mob, together with your son. And you can be glad I allow you to be beheaded and do not have you hanged for attempted regicide.”

Stanley`s eyes widenened, but he said nothing, and Richard glowered at him for a moment, before releasing him and turning away, to the guards by the door. “Orders for his execution have been given”, he said, his voice still icy. “Have him brought to the town square.” Giving Stanley a glance over his shoulder, as if he was utterly unimportant, he added: “A priest will await you there to take your confession, but I doubt it will be enough to save your from hell everlasting.”

With that, he turned and left the room.

The last he saw of Stanley was him being roughly dragged out of the chamber by the guards.


	4. Chapter 4

Sending Stanley to his well-deserved execution did not give Richard satisfaction for long. Too great was his grief, his worry, his rage, and he threw himself into work to distract himself. He could not allow himself to dwell on it. He could not.

He was almost grateful that the campaign had caused so much trouble for him to take care of, to stop him from dwelling on his thoughts. Men bearing the news of his victory had to be sent all over the realm, suspected traitors imprisoned and their trials ordered, masses arranged to be read for the fallen, agreements for funerals to be made, special messengers sent to his lady mother, to Margaret in Burgundy, to his sister Elizabeth and his nephew John, to the men of York and plenty of others as well.

Over the next few days, Richard made certain to always have work, not to have a single moment he could avoid where he could allow his thoughts to roam freely, for he knew if he did, he would not be able to control himself any longer. Would be of no use to anyone, would not be able to do what he had to. He would break something if he thought too long, would strangle someone.

Rob was tirelessly by his side, but as days passed, he became more and more worried. “You need to stop this, Richard”, he said at least twice every day after a week. “You will fall ill if you continue like that.” “I don`t care!”, Richard shouted back at him, every time. “This needs to be done. Or would you have me ignore it?”

He was not being just, he knew, but he could not do otherwise. He did not want to stop. He could not.

Rob and Francis had said the same to him after Anne`s death, and he had tried explaining to them then that if he allowed his feelings to come through even once, he would not be able to control himself any longer. He thought the same now.

Richard was beginning to feel as mad as old Henry of Lancaster had been, but he could not tell this to Rob. Rob would only insist more he needed rest, as he and Francis had earlier this year. They had not -

Francis was still fighting for his life. He lay in bed in his chamber, and Richard only came to see him shortly every day. Only to reassure himself he still lived, to see with his own eyes he still breathed. But every day, it was worse than all his imagination could conjure up. Dr Hobbes and his assistants hovered over Francis, who gasped for breaths, who coughed loudly and throatily, who was glowing with fever, and nothing they did seemed to help. Nor did they seem to have very much hope, and the only thing Hobbes had told him he could say with certainty was that it was a miracle he had even survived the journey from the battlefield to the castle, and that he would die if moved again in his state.

Richard had resolved to have his court stay in Leicester in that case, until - until he knew what was happening, and when it became clear this could still take its time, he sent for all those who had not been able to accompany his campaign. He sent for his son, for his sister and brother-in-law and their son, for Lord Neville, and naturally, for Francis`s wife, the lady Anna and her brother, imploring them to hurry.

His nephew John arrived two days after the summons, his parents a day later, but Richard assumed that everyone else would presumably take longer. Lady Anna, for one, would probably have to travel in a litter in this weather.

He turned out to be mistaken about this, though. In the evening of the day his sister Elizabeth had arrived, Francis`s wife and her rather frazzled-looking brother, his namesake, arrived. He bowed to Richard, earnestly assuring him of his and his family`s loyalty again, but lady Anna only curtseyed shortly. “I am glad to see your grace”, she said, and then, before he could answer: “Where is my lord husband? Is he -”

Her voice broke off, but Richard did not need to hear it to know what she wanted to say. Keeping his own voice from shaking, he answered: “Do not upset yourself, my lady. Francis is st - alive.” Hesitating for a moment, he then added: “I can show you his chamber.”

“Yes”, the lady Anna said, immediately. “I need to see him, your grace.” “Anna -” Her brother began, at which she turned to him, and Richard saw her eyes flashing. “I wish to see my husband, Dick. I am aware what I might see, and I still want to see him.” Determinedly looking away from him then, she then addressed Richard again. “My brother thinks I should not, your grace. He thinks it might be too distressing for me.”

Richard rather thought he agreed - he could barely stand to see Francis in his current state himself - but knew better than to say anything. It would avail to nothing, and lady Anna resembled her cousin, his own dearest Anne, far too much to accept any such rebuke, even from him.

The thought gave him a stab through his heart, and he clenched his teeth. There was no point in thinking of Anne now. Determinedly, he shook off the thoughts, and offered his arm to lady Anna. “If you will follow me, I will lead you to your husband.”

The lady laid her hand on his arm, but after simply saying: “Thank you.” she said nothing more. Richard thought he should break the silence, but he could think of nothing to say, so he remained silent as well as they walked. As they approached Francis`s chamber, however, they could hear his coughs already from afar, and Richard, seeing the horror on lady Anna`s face, quickly tried to think of something to say to drown it out. “We are almost there”, he said, inanely, as loudly as he could. “We -”

“Thank you, your grace”, lady Anna answered, quietly. “You do not need to try to protect me. I heard my husband.”

Richard did not know what to reply, and so he again fell quiet, until they reached Francis`s chamber, where they were greeted by one of the servants always waiting in front of it with strict orders to tell Richard immediately as soon as there were some news, who bowed and quickly opened the door for them.

Dr. Hobbes was holding a small receptacle in front of his coughing chamberlain, who was being steadied by one of his assistants. He looked up when they entered the chamber, but before he could say anything, Richard barked: “Pay attention to him!” But Francis was already sinking back against the man holding him, and Richard saw immediately that he had not got any better. His eyes were still empty, face flushed and lips wet with phlegm. Richard tried his best to suppress the goosebumps he got when looking at him; it was very hard to believe he would ever recover.

Lady Anna seemed to think the same, for she made a choked noise of distress. Richard turned to her, but she was already releasing him, almost pushing him out of the way, running to her husband`s side. “Francis!” Without looking left and right, she dropped to her knees beside him. “Francis!”

Francis did not react, did not seem to be aware of his surroundings, and she made another noise of distress, reaching out to stroke his sweaty hair away from his face, and Richard suddenly felt he should avert his eyes. He shifted, looking at Hobbes, who was now watching Anna with a frown. “My lady ...”, he began, but before he could go on, Richard interrupted him. “How is he?”, he asked, as he did every day, not really expecting a different answer than the day before. “Is - is -”

“His injuries are healing well, your grace”, the physician began, hesitatingly. “But -” He broke off, and Richard glowered at him. “Go on!” Hobbes shuffled his feet, but then looked him in the eye. “They have affected his lungs, your grace. He has pneumonia.”

Richard froze, staring at him, the words echoing in his mind, giving Hobbes the chance to go on. “It is quite a usual reaction to such injuries. I have been hoping Lord Lovell would be an exception, but -”

“Save him!”, Richard interrupted him again, repeating what he had said more often than he could count since the battle. “I order you to save him! You have experience with that illness. Cure him!”

Dr. Hobbes said nothing for a moment, looking slightly past him, at lady Anna, who was now holding Francis`s hand, murmuring something to him. Then he nodded shortly. “I will try my best, your grace.”

Richard clenched his teeth again, and when Hobbes, perhaps thinking he needed to elaborate, went on: "I will -", he could not help himself any longer, burst out: "You will save him! You will not just do your best, you will save him!" 

Hobbes looked at him for a moment, then he bowed. "Your grace", he murmured. "It is in God`s hands." 

"That`s what you said about my wife the queen!", Richard growled. "I suspect that is what you said about my brother. They both died, yet I continued placing my trust in you. If you kill Francis now -"

He took some savage satisfaction in the fact that Hobbes blanched at that, even as he knew he was unfair. But Francis was coughing again, a tortured sound that cut through Richard, and he could not be sorry. If Hobbes did not save him, he would feel the consequences.

"Your grace ...", Hobbes tried again, and again Richard cut across him. "You will save him", he snapped. "Or you will feel my displeasure. Francis will live!" The physician did not seem to have an answer, but before Richard could go on, a soft voice interrupted him. "Forgive me, your grace."

Both Hobbes and Richard spun around to find themselves faced with lady Anna, who was looking steadily at them, even while she was rubbing Francis`s shoulder with one hand as he seemed to be spitting more phlegm into a bowl one of Hobbes's assistants was holding for him. "Look at my husband", lady Anna said, softly. "He is very ill, like to die." Richard made a sound of protest at these words, not wanting to hear them said aloud, but Francis`s wife went on, calmly. "He needs a physician who can do his task without fear. One who can do all that is in his power, and trust in God to do his will. Francis doesn´t need someone who works under threats."

Richard stared at her for a moment as her words cut through his panic and rage, then he nodded shortly. "You are right, of course, my lady", he said then, in a clipped voice, before his gaze wandered to his friend. "Francis`s needs are what are most important."

With that, he turned to Hobbes, gave him a very short nod, then turned and left the chambers.

There was nothing he could do now but pray.

He could only pray.


	5. Chapter 5

Another week later, Richard felt as if he had never slept in his life. He had become so used to worry and tiredness it was becoming difficult to recall anything else. It had almost become a routine by now for him to sleep four hours at the most. To dismiss Rob`s, his nephew`s, his sister`s, even Hobbes`s warnings that this could not go on. To lie awake even when he did finally go to bed, thinking he could hear the screams of battle again. To hear Anne`s coughs. To hear her father`s voice as he railed against his brother. To hear Ned`s voice. To hear George, complaining against Ned.

He could suppress such thoughts during the day, when manifold concerns kept him busy, but he could not do so when he had nothing to do. When he lay in h9s chamber, staring at the bed hangings.

Several times, he wondered if he should perhaps ask Hobbes for something to help him sleep, but rejected the thought each time. Such tinctures were likely also to make him lazy and slow during the day, and he certainly did not need that. Not now, that his full attention was needed to re-stablise his realm after the destruction Tudor`s nephew and his men had wreaked in it. Some of the criminals he had brought along to fight for him were still at large, and there had been news of them robbing and raping where they had the chance.

Richard knew they were bought murderers, men who had been promised money by Tudor once he successfully invaded, that they did not care who was king, would commit crimes whenever they had the chance, but he did not have them punished as common criminals. Those who were caught were not simply hanged for rape and robbery. They were executed for treason.

Perhaps that would help encourage the rest of them still at large to rather stay in hiding and not draw attention to themselves by committing more crimes. Or better yet, to leave this realm and return to France, there to wreak havoc.

He might even desire this more than to see them punished for their misdeeds. The brat they called King of France and that wily sister of his, who seemed to have taken lessons from the Bitch of Anjou, would get their comeuppance for supporting Tudor one day. Richard would not forget this.

Clearly, the were aware of this, for soon after he had had such thoughts, nearly three weeks after the battle, a messenger arrived at court, wearing the King of France`s cognisance and the most slavish expression.

Richard heard his nephew John chortle when seeing him once he, after a suitable waiting period just to annoy the man and make him report the regard France was held in in England once he returned to his master, allowed him into his presence, and he himself did not bother to hide a grin.

He had received several messages from the sovereigns of Europe in the time since his victory had become known, but none of them had sent messagers so clearly instructed to appear terrified and contrite. The King of Scotland, untrustworthy creature that he was, had send assurances he was eager to continue their good relations. His sister Margaret and Maximilian had sent congratulations in which Maximilian called him “good uncle” so often Richard had almost been able to see his sister standing looking strictly over his shoulder as he composed the message.

The King of France, or rather his sister, had composed a message that so dripped with fear Richard, for the first time since almost three weeks, felt amused as the messenger, stuttering with either real fear or a perfectly studied pretence of fear, recited it.

“...his grace was pleased to hear of your victory, of course”, he repeated for the umpteenth time when Richard simply looked at him, did not respond. “Due to his youth, he does have to rely on advisors, and in this case, he listened to vile and sinful men who had their own interest at heart rather than his and those of France, which naturally ally with your own. But he regretted it almost instantly, and has been praying his foolhardy decision would not culminate in disaster and the destruction of you, his beloved cousin.”

At that, Richard could help himself no longer, burst out laughing. Loudly, sarcastically, and he clapped his hands in mocking applause. “Very good”, he said. “Perfectly thought out. What a convenient way to excuse him of the consequences of his actions if they did not end as he wished. I admire you, my man. You were very convincing, which can`t have been easy with the text you were given.”

He enjoyed watching the colour drain from the man`s face, seeing a flicker of real fear. Not that he intended to do anything bad to the man, who was after all only a messenger who had no control over what he was being made to say, but it could not hurt to let him think it for a moment. It would colour his report back to Charles and his sister.

“No, your most revered grace”, the man said hastily after a moment, and Richard grinned at him. “Your most revered grace”, he repeated, genuinely amused, then turned to Rob. “Rob, remind me to make you all call me that in the future.” Turning back to Charles`s man, he then asked: “Or should I try it with “your majesty”?”

This was a mean thing to say, and he saw the man struggle. There was no real answer to that for him. It was so exaggerated that he could not reasonably answer it would be fitting for him to be called thus, but he could also not contradict him.

Richard watched him struggle for a moment, then took mercy on him and said: “I suppose your opinion does not really matter. You wanted to explain why I am wrong in thinking that your king giving support to a rebel against me in reality means he wished me to win.”

“His grace has naturally feared you would not believe him”, the Frenchman answered. “He wishes me to show you a present of gold coins and jewels he made you, to convince you of his good will.”

Richard thought vaguely it would take him far more to be convinced of his good will, but he said nothing, even though he heard John whisper: “Keep the presents and kick him in the balls nonetheless.”

John was a good lad, even though his father promptly and not very subtly slapped his arm. Richard pretended to ignore them, instead looking at the messenger who was producing the presence he had mentioned from a puch that had been fastened at his belt. “His grace wishes for you to wear the jewels as a sign of your magnificence and his friendship, and the gold coins to be put to use against your enemies.”

“Meaning him?”, murmured Rob, which the messenger ignored. Not that he could do much else. Richard ignored him as well - they could have a laugh about that later - taking the jewels, one of which was embedded in a truly beautiful ring, and the gold coins, and after a moment, he forced himself to give the messenger a smile. “I bid you give my cousin my thanks for this present, and to tell him I understand the meaning of his message.”

John snorted at that, but the messenger looked relieved as he bowed again. “You are most kind, your grace.”

Richard gave him a nod, then dismissed him with a wave. “You will be given quarters in this castle until you choose to leave, which you may do at your own leisure”, he said, knowing full well the man would leave the next day at the latest, then turned away from him, looking into his men`s grinning faces.

France, for once, was in the humble place they deserved to be. It was a good sign. His reign was becoming more and more stable.

Another two days later, he received the news that Edward Brampton had landed at the port of Southampton, bringing news from Portugal as well.


	6. Chapter 6

Night had fallen when Richard finally had the calm to contemplate what Sir Edward`s return to England with news from Portugal could mean. He had tried to push it aside, to concentrate on the practical aspect - it was not like he could change it - but when he was alone, his court had retired, he found himself no longer able to do so. Hearing his squire`s even breaths, he wondered what Sir Edward`s news would mean. If Infanta Joanna had accepted his proposal, he would be a married man again in the forseeable future. Husband to a woman he had heard the most admirable stories of, who was doubtlessly a good woman, an admirable choice of bride for him.

Husband to a woman who was not Anne.

It availed to nothing to think like this, of course. He would have to marry again, would have to hope the marriage was fruitful. Soon not only his squire`s but the infanta`s breathing would be heard in his bedchamber, and if he was lucky, she would give him sons.

If she had not accepted him, what would that mean? Isabella of Castille had indicated her willingness to let him marry her daughter, and if the Infanta Joanna had chosen to reject him like she had rejected all her other suitors, she would be the one he would have to marry. A fourteen-year-old girl, a girl younger than his own daughter. To be his wife and queen.

He was not particularly keen on marrying Infanta Joanna, but he was even less keen on marrying Infanta Isabella.

Sir Edward`s news would determine who it was he would have to share his future with, and Richard felt slightly foolish for being apprehensive about it. It was a marriage that was important to England. His own feelings were secondary.

What happened when a king placed his own feelings over the good of the realm, Ned had amply demonstrated.

Richard was still trying to tell himself that he was behaving stupidly when he was startled from his thoughts by a movement at the door of his bedchamber, and a moment later, saw a man enter it.

Without even thinking, Richard immediately sat up, automatically trying to reach for a weapon. However, even as he was still doing so, he recognised the man who was carefully stepping towards him, and froze.

One of Hobbes`s assistants. One of the men who were always in attendance when he went to see Francis, doing cleaning, fetching wet clothes for his forehead. If he was no longer in attendance, if Hobbes had sent him away to inform him, that could only mean -

“Do you have news?”, Richard asked, pre-empting any sort of obeisance from the man. “Lord Lovell?” He braced himself for the worst. The news that the sickness had taken Francis, that Tudor`s treason had cost him his life. That his dear, beloved friend had died after all.

Before the man could even speak, he felt a scream rise in his throat, a lament to be heard to the high heavens. He could not bear it. He had borne Anne`s death. He had borne his son`s death.

Francis being taken from him now as well was just too much, and it was only suddenly seeing the man`s unusual expression that stopped him from starting to howl in a way he had only once done in his life, when his wife had died.

“Lord Lovell?”, he repeated, hearing his own voice sound very hoarse, and then the man started to smile. “Doctor Hobbes has sent me. Lord Lovell has woken up and is asking for you.”

Richard barely took the time to get dressed properly after hearing the news. Only making sure he would not be seen in a shape that could cause tongues to wag, he then jumped up and told the man to lead him to Francis`s chambers. He needed to see his friend himself. Needed to assure himself he was alive and conscious, after he had been delirious for nearly three weeks since the battle now, and had spent much of the last week asleep.

Hobbes had feared several times he would not awaken again, and Richard wanted to see him now. Wanted to make sure this was not a lie, a misunderstanding, and when he finally reached the sickroom, he had to restrain himself to wait until the door was opened for him, not to burst through it without even a semblance of dignity.

When he did enter the room, though, to find Francis, eyes lucid and understanding, look at him, all such thoughts were forgot and he ran to Francis`s bed, fell to his knees beside it. “Francis!”, he exclaimed hoarsely. “My friend.”

Francis reached for his hand, gave it a weak squeeze as Richard bent to kiss his forehead. “We won?”, he asked, in a voice that hardly sounded like his own. “Tudor is dead?”

Richard lifted his hand to his chest, held it there as he said: “He is dead. His uncle too. As are Oxford and Stanley. I have had his brother and his nephew executed.” “Catesby?”, Francis murmured, and Richard stiffened. “He is still imprisoned. I - am going to have him executed too.”

Francis`s eyes closed, but the slight pressure on Richard´s hand remained, and a moment later, he asked: “Why have you - not yet?” He coughed after that, throatily, and Richard looked at him in distress. However, knowing that he would want an answer if he was in his place, he responded nonetheless. “Doctor Hobbes thought you might die. And if his treason had been responsible for your death, I would have had him hanged, drawn and quartered.”

Francis nodded, then remained silent for a while. His breathing was still more laboured than it should have been, but far more even than it had been only a few days ago, and Richard thought he had fallen asleep again, already wanted to leave again when Francis spoke up again. “What else happened?” He coughed again. “Doctor Hobbes says - the battle - was three - weeks - ago?”

He seemed to still struggle with speaking too much, but Richard was so glad hearing his voice at all, the sound made him rejoice nonetheless. “It was”, he answered. “The longest three weeks of my life. I learnt Sir Edward has landed in Southampton earlier this day.“

At that, a smile tugged at Francis`s lips, even though he still did not open his eyes. “Good”, he murmured. “What else?” “We have been cleaning up the mess Tudor`s invasion left”, Richard responded. “The brat of France sent a messenger some days ago. You would have enjoyed it.”

“I can imagine”, his friend said. “Will be .... up in no time.” “You will recover properly before you attempt anything of the like, and that is an order”, Richard growled, and Francis`s smile grew. “At your service.” Then he paused again, before he asked: “Anna?”

At that, Richard suddenly felt like grinning himself. “Your wife has barely left your side for two weeks. I think her brother my cousin had to force her to leave you to sleep every night.”

“Send for her?” Francis`s voice was faltering now. “You and her. Help me recover-” “She will be send for immediately.”, Richard said, waving for one of the servants to fulfil this order, who bowed and immediately followed it. 

Francis opened his eyes a fraction of an inch, and smiled weakly at him, before he sacked down again. “Richard”, he murmured again. Then his hand became slack in Richard`s. He had passed out again.

Richard hectically looked from him to Hobbes, but Hobbes only shook his head. “This is but normal”, he said. “With God`s will, he will live.”

It were among the most beautiful words Richard had ever heard.


	7. Chapter 7

William Catesby`s beheading took place a day later.

Richard refused to see him again before that, despite his pleas, sending word only that he could be glad he was spared the pain and indignity of hanging, drawing and quartering. Nor did he attend the execution, sending his nephew John in his stead.

However, he did allow for his family to have his body buried in dignity, even though when he gave the order, even his scribe seemed to look at him in surprise. He naturally did not ask though, lowering his head and quickly doing as he was told when Richard, pre-emptively, snarled at him, telling him to hurry up.

John was less restrained, outright asking Richard the next time he saw him: “Why did you not have his head displayed as warning to others? He didn`t deserve any mercy.”

Richard looked at him for a moment, torn between annoyance and a sense of disillusionment. How easy it was for John to make such statements. How easy it was for him to judge like this. Logically, clearly, with all the confidence of his twenty years. When he had been that age, Richard thought he might have said the same to Ned.

He knew better now, and when John gave him a questioning look, he answered, voice colder than he had intended: “Is mercy misplaced? Is that what everyone is saying? You can tell them all that I want to hear that traitor`s name no longer. I want no reminder of him. If he is forgotten like the traitorous scum he was, I shall be satisfied!”

John stared at him for a moment, then he nodded. “I can understand that, uncle”, he muttered, before he suddenly grinned slightly. “I will pass it on too. My lord father told me not to dare questioning you, but my lady mother said it would probably do you good to be questioned every once in while.”

This was so much something Elizabeth would say that Richard laughed, too, his gloomy mood lifting somewhat. “Watch your words, my lord”, he then said, playfully, and John`s grin widened. “I am just repeating my lady mother`s words!”

John apparently did pass on his reasoning, though, for within a day, he heard no more murmurs about Catesby. Not that he was naive enough to think they had ceased; but as long as there was no speculation within his earshot, he knew there was nothing he could do and it did not much bother him. It could do no harm and would eventually die down.

He was not given much time to dwell on such thoughts, in any case, for within another day, he was given news of Brampton´s approach, was informed he would be arriving in Leicester before dusk. Richard gave orders that he was to be received with honours, and he himself be informed immediately as soon as he had arrived.

Perhaps these news also drove Catesby from his courtiers` minds, for while there had been hastily hushed whispers before, the whole court seemed abuzz now. Richard could not even blame anyone. Whatever news Brampton brought, they would affect not only him, but the whole country. Would they have a Portugese queen, or a Spanish one? Would he soon have to be husband to a girl younger than his daughter?

Richard tried his best not to show any apprehension, tried his best not to feel any apprehension over a mere marriage - both options would be good for England, after all - but clearly he did not succeed well enough to fool Rob. “You look like a boy afraid of being rejected by a kitchen wench”, his friend pointed ot a couple of hours after they had received the news, and Richard growled. “I do not, my lord”, he said, half-threatening, but Rob failed to be impressed. “Yes you do. Don`t forget, your grace, that I knew you already when you were a boy who was afraid of being rejected by a kitchen wench.” Before Richard could find an answer to that, he winked, going on: “What was her name? Bridget?”

Feeling a completely ridiculous blush creep on his face, Richard nodded. “Yes”, he murmured, and then: “I will have you know I was never afraid of being rejected by her. She was very impressed with me.” Rob laughed, at that. “I`m sure.” He gave Richard enough time to scowl at him, before he said: “So was Infanta Joanna, if you can trust the missive you have received after - earlier this year. She will make a good queen, no doubt.”

There was nothing Richard could say to that. Some words to tell Rob it was not his place to speculate like that hovered on his tongue, but he swallowed them. It would be highly unjust, and Rob had ever been his friend. He did have the right to speculate, more than most others.

Anne, who had known about the proposal to Infanta Joanna he would have to make after her death, would have doubtlessly told him Rob was right and he was behaving stupidly. The thought helped a little, but still Richard could not help feeling nervous.

He barked orders at whatever hapless servant happened across him as he paced through the castle, and when evening fell and Brampton was expected at any moment, he found himself in front of Francis`s chambers.

Richard hesitated for a moment, not having wanted to worry his friend in his still very weakened state and knowing perfectly well Francis would worry, but he could not help himself. He wanted to see that however his future was decided this evening, Francis would be well and by his side.

His friend was sitting in his bed propped up by pillows, looking exhausted, but his eyes lit up when he saw him. “Richard!”, he said, in a throaty voice that was probably not as loud as he wanted it to be, and he waited until Richard had sat down next to his bed to continue: “Anna just left. She told me Brampton`s due to arrive soon. I thought you wanted to keep it from me.”

There was no reproach in his voice, only slight amusement, but still Richard bristled. Before he could point out to Francis that he was hardly in a proper state to be immediately informed of all decisions that might cause him worry, Doctor Hobbes, standing nearby and watching them closely, made a disapproving noise. “I advised the Lady Anna against telling you”, he said, sharply. “You need complete rest.”

“Nonsense!”, Francis exclaimed, then undermined his point by starting to cough. Gasping for breath, he gave Hobbes a glare, then said, turning to Richard: “All I do is lie here, being fussed over like an infant. I`m more likely to be badly affected by not being told. I might die of boredom.”

At that, Richard smiled, even though it was not very funny. It seemed like Francis was returning to normal, his fiery temper beginning to show again, and ignoring Hobbes, he answered: “Your lady wife was right. Brampton will arrive at any moment.”

“With loving kisses from your future bride and queen”, Francis said, with a grin that belied his otherwise exhausted expression. Richard scowled. “Keep this up”, he threatened, half-serious, “and I won`t tell you anything anymore.”

“I am just telling you the truth”, his friend countered, then put both hands on his arm, using it as support as he straightened up in a way that seemed rather painful. “Can you just help me up?”

Richard recoiled, shocked. “I will not!”, he exclaimed. “I won`t help you kill yourself, and to get up in your state would be folly!” He turned to Hobbes, expecting the man to back him up, when Francis gave an annoyed sigh. “Richard. Do you have any idea what an outrageous amount of broth this man is making me drink? I need a piss, is all.” Somewhat sulkily, it appeared to the king, he added: “I promise you I will lie down again immediately afterwards.”

As soon as he had finished speaking, one of Hobbes`s assistants starting moving, but Richard waved him away. “I will do this”, he said, pulling up his friend without much difficulty. Francis smiled, but Richard noticed that as he helped him to the chamberpot, steadied him as he did what he had to, his friend was leaning heavily on him. He had lost a lot of weight too. Richard knew he was a strong man, but even so he doubted he could have supported Francis all by himself before the battle.

Francis himself seemed to become aware of a still lingering feeling of weakness, for when Richard helped him back to his bed, he made no snarky remark, no complaint at being made to lie down again. Richard was about to comment on him having a king perform the tasks of a servant for him, but he did not get around to. Just as he opened his mouth, there was a cough at the door of the chamber, and whirling around, Richard found himself faced with a sweaty-looking stable-boy, who seemed to be entirely in awe of him.

He bowed so deeply Richard thought his nose would touch the ground, then said: “Your grace. I am sorry to disturb you. Sir Edward has just ridden in.”


	8. Chapter 8

Brampton was waiting for him in the room he used as a solar, and as Richard hurried there, he tried his best to arrange his fact into a neutral expression. He was afraid he was failing, though, and that his apprehension was visible to everyone.

Anne would have laughed, of that he was aware. She would have never stopped teasing him.

By the time he arrived at the chamber, he had already almost convinced himself that the Infanta Joanna had rejected his offer of marriage as she had rejected all other offers, and that Brampton would simply affirm these fears.

However, when one of the servants offered the door for him and he entered, trying to appear as royal and dignified as possible, all such thoughts were forgotten as he found himself faced with Brampton, who was standing by the window, a goblet in his hand, beaming.

“Your grace!”, he boomed, in a voice that, as always, made Richard think that he would have no trouble being heard by sailors in even the wildest of storms, before flourishing a bow in his direction, somehow managing not to spill all of whatever was in his goblet.

Richard could not help himself, he grinned, and felt some of his worries fall away from him. It was difficult to be worried or sad in Brampton`s presence and his constant good mood. He did not think that Brampton had ever encountered a problem that had even slowed him down.

“It is good to see you well, too”, he said, and Brampton laughed, loudly. “What should happen to me? God hasn`t meant for me to drown, and the devil would fail at any attempts to make it so!” He gave Richard a merry grin, and the king returned it. “I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

“It was good to see the land of my birth again”, Brampton affirmed. “But I almost found myself missing all that rain here. In Portugal, there is always sun!”

Richard shuddered at the thought - sun was nice, but the thought of constantly having to sweat was not an appealing one - making Brampton laugh again, and it lasted a moment before he calmed slightly, and he waved for a servant standing in the background, holding one of the little sacks used to transport messages in. “His grace Joao sends you his best wishes”, he said then, before Richard could ask, “and expresses his pleasure that his sister, Infanta Joanna, agreed to become your wife and queen, and that your niece, the noble lady Elizabeth, has agreed to a match with his cousin Manuel, creating an alliance between Portugal and England he is convinced will be fruitful and profitable for everyone.”

For a tiny moment, Richard only looked at him as the words sank in. Infanta Joanna had accepted him. He was engaged to marry her now, would have a new queen and wife in some months` time. He fought for his voice, was glad it was steady when he finally found it. “I am convinced of the same”, he said. “Infanta Joanna will be treated with all the honour and dignity that is owed to her. Announcements of the engagement will be made as soon as possible.”

Brampton beamed at him again. “His grace Joao has been keen on completing the treaty as soon as possible”; he answered, lapsing from his previously formal language back into a more personal speech. “He would have sent your future wife and queen on a ship hot on the heels of mine, but she has begged for a little more time.” He gave Richard a cheeky look. “An impressive lady, the infanta. You will much like her, your grace.”

“I am certain”, Richard said, drily, both amused at Brampton`s characteristical daring and slightly overwhelmed at the thought that he was describing the woman he would soon wed. “When does it suit her grace to arrive?”

He stumbled slightly over the words, finding it difficult to describe another woman but Anne as “her grace”, but if Brampton noticed, he did not let on. “His grace Joao has agreed with her she will arrive here in December, and she will be your wife by Christmas. I assured him it would be in your interest, and that your niece the lady Elizabeth would arrive in Portugal at the same time.”

“It is, and she will”, Richard answered, now quite automatically. “I look forward to welcoming her and making her my wife and queen.” He paused for a moment as he considered something he had not let himself think about before, not even when he had thought about what would happen if she truly did accept his proposal. “Will her grace and Joao be satisfied with her coronation taking place after Epiphany? I would like for it to be a great celebration as suits my queen, but if it coincides with Christmas?”

Brampton chuckled at that, as if the question was amusing. “The infanta is a most religious lady”, he said then. “I am certain she will not want Christmas to be overshadowed by anything.”

Richard nodded, and Brampton gave him a smile, before taking the sack with documents from the servant who had been waiting patiently all that time. “Both his grace Joao and her grace your future queen have written to assure you of all I have told you”, he said then. “Her grace Joanna also bade me tell you that she will be most pleased to become your wife, and is certain that your victory over your enemies, which she ardently prayed for, is a sign both you and your union with her are blessed by God.”

Hearing that, Richard suddenly swallowed, looked away. He knew those were conventional words, but despite himself, he found himself touched by these simple, pious words. “I will remember to thank her when she arrives”, he said, and then, forcing himself to look at Brampton again, who was giving him an all too knowing look, said: “I am sure you will assist me in making certain arrangements will be made so I do not accidentally insult her by flaunting a tradition from her home country when she arrives.”

Brampton flourished another bow. “Of course, your grace.” Then, completely overstepping his bounds in a way he always seemed to do at least once when speaking to him but which Richard could never be miffed about, he winked. “The infanta is a noble lady, but like all women, I am certain she will enjoy being given fine silks and jewellery.”

“I am certain I shall remember that”, Richard said, trying and failing to sound strict, much to Brampton`s obvious amusement. He watched him for a while, then he sobered, and, to Richard`s surprise, suddenly said: “I was much relieved to have heard of your victory as well. But I have also heard that there were losses ...”

He trailed off, and Richard squared his shoulders, forced down all emotions. It was only natural that Brampton would want to know what had happened. “Lord Howard died”, he said, bluntly, and saw the shock on Brampton`s face. “Faithful John Kendall died, as well. Robert Brackenbury. Richard Ratcliffe, too.”

“Dick!”, Brampton exclaimed, and after a short pause, as if remembering it then, he crossed himself. “May that bastardo Tudor burn in hell everlasting for that!”

He had spoken with vehemence, and Richard gave him an almost curious look. He knew that Dick Ratcliffe and Brampton had got on very well, had shared at sense of humour, but he had also become used to Brampton taking everything lightly. Only seldom had he heard him so emotional he lapsed into his native language.

He seemed to be shaken by the news, though, for he did so again when he spoke again, given Richard an almost pitying look. “Senhor Lovell?”, he asked. “I heard - but couldn´t believe when I -” “He`s recovering”, Richard said, roughly. “For a while, I thought he wouldn`t -”

Brampton seemed to be regaining his composture, and shook his head. “Not him”, he said. “An insignificant no one like Tudor does not kill a man like Lovell!”

At that, Richard could not help himself but grin as well. “He`ll appreciate you saying that.“ Brampton nodded, and then said: “I shudder to think of your niece being married to that Tudor.”

Richard grimaced, not liking the thought himself, and then said: “I am sure Duke Manuel will make her a good husband.” “And she him a good wife”, Brampton answered. “He has been much pleased to hear of her good repute and her beauty, and looks forward to welcoming her as his wife and duchess.” Gesturing to the small sack, he added: “I have a message from him as well. The lady is not in attendance?”

“I will send for her presently”, Richard answered, at which Brampton nodded again, lifting the goblet he had held the whole time. “To marriage”, he said, then drained it, and Richard bowed his head in acknowledgement of the toast, before his glance fell on the parchment he was holding.

Joao`s assurance of an alliance and the first missive from his future wife and queen.

Richard gave it a long look, then stuck it both into his sleeve. He could read those messages later. When neither Brampton nor anyone else was watching but his servants.

First, he needed to send for his niece, and to make an announcement to his court.


	9. Chapter 9

Unexpectedly, Richard`s announcement, though it could not have come as much of a surprise to anyone, caused quite the stir at court. He received many congratulations, and Richard had the feeling that a lot of them were actually heartfelt.

Rob was not dissuaded from hugging him, telling him he was very glad and pointing out that he had told him so, making Richard punch him in the arm. “You are impossible”, he said, feeling much cheered, and then, voicing something he had not said aloud since Anne`s death: “I can`t imagine being married to anyone but Anne.”

Rob sobered at that, given him a fond look. “I know, Richard. I know”, he said. “When Nell died, I thought I would never be able to look at any other woman again. But look at me now. And I know Nell would approve of Joyce, because I would have approved of her being happy had I died.”

Richard tried to smile hearing that. “There is no one who would not approve of your Joyce”, he said, in a weak attempt at jesting, but then sighed. “I know. I know Anne approved. She told me so before she died.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word, but only slightly. “I simply wonder what it will be like. Being married to someone who is not Anne.”

Rob squeezed his shoulder. “Her grace your future wife will wrap you around her fingers, just like Anne did, of course”, he said, at which Richard had laughed slightly. “I was not wrapped around Anne`s finger”, he protested, making Rob snort. “And you never noticed it, either.”

Richard knew Rob was simply teasing him, but it made him feel slightly better. He was right, of course. Anne would have approved, and the Infanta Joanna had many admirable qualities. She was not Anne, but she possessed all to make him a good wife and queen. He could only hope he would be a suitable husband to her as well.

After thinking on this for a short while, he dismissed such thoughts. He had had them for too long now. Whether they liked each other or not, he and the infanta were to be married, and there was an end to it. If they liked each other, that would be God smiling on them, but it hardly mattered if they did not. He was starting to think like Ned, expecting love from a marriage. And where that had ended, he knew only too well.

It was time he ignored his conflicted feelings about this and treated it like the important matter for the good of his country it was. A lot would have to be organised for it.

Most of all, his niece would have to be told about her upcoming departure to Portugal, an announcement Richard was not looking forward to. Elizabeth was a sweet and docile woman, quite unlike her mother, but how she would react to having to say goodbye to her siblings, mother and country, Richard did not know.

Certainly, she had indicated she wanted the match when it had first been talked about, but had she truly meant it? Or had her simple and understandable hope to be married made her forget the circumstances? After all, she was nineteen, which he imagined could well prey at her mind.

He had sent for her almost immediately after leaving Brampton`s presence, even before allowing the news of his upcoming marriage to the Infanta Joanna spread at court, and expected she would arrive in a few days` time.

Hopefully, Duke Manuel had found a few well-chosen words to convince her that marrying him was in her interest.

Only when Richard thought that did he remember his own missives, and after walking a while through the castle, he found a comparatively secluded seat, one of the kind of window seats Francis so loved, and after dismissing several servants who were loitering nearby, he started to read.

Joao`s missive said what he had expected it to say making him the sort of compliments that were usual for communication between rulers, and affirming that he was happy to make the alliance with him.

The Infanta Joanna`s letter, however, was more interesting. Not that it said anything that was in any way not proper, fitting or expected, but still Richard found himself touched as he read the words.

“Your Grace, my future king, sovereign lord and husband. Sir Edward very kindly helps me put these words to parchment in your language. I am very happy to accept your proposal to become your wife and queen. I have prayed, and I am certain God wills it, much as I do will to follow his wishes. I know you are a man who respects God, and as I am a woman who does so, God will reward us with a blessed marriage. I do look forward to becoming your wife and queen and ever loyal subject in body as I am now already in mind and soul. You are in my prayers, as I know I am in yours. Your devoted fianceé, Infanta Joanna of Portugal.”

Richard sat for a while, just staring at these words, wondering what the woman who had written these words would be like, before he told himself he would know before long.

Not that he would have admitted it, not even to himself, but the letter gave him hope that Infanta Joanna was indeed as pious, intelligent and formidable as he had been told she was. Perhaps, after one uncommonly happy marriage, he had a chance to have another that was not miserable.

He would be luckier than most.

Over the next couple of days, Richard found himself able to dismiss the marriage from his thoughts as far as was possible when he was still constantly being congratulated and occasionally teased. Francis, who had been asleep when Richard had first come to tell him, learnt of it a day later than everyone else and promised to help him find perfect gifts for his future bride, arguing that “your sense of colour will make her run away screaming”, making Richard protest despite a certain truth in this statement.

Perhaps it was because such thoughts gave him a certain sort of pleasure that they no longer constantly nagged at him and when he worked on other problems, he could focus on them without that nagging on his mind.

As a matter of fact, he had completely forgot about it, was dictating a letter to his lady mother when, two days later, the arrival of his niece Elizabeth was announced to him, startling him completely.

His astonishment did not last long, though, and dismissing his scribe, he gave the messenger a small smile. “Have her brought to me”, he said. “See to it she will be brought any refreshment she wishes.” The man bowed, and Richard looked around himself, quickly locating the small sack containing Duke Manuel`s message to his niece. Something he could give her, something that would hopefully make her feel at ease with her nuptials.

Richard expected Elizabeth to look apprehensive when she entered his solar, but when she arrived a while later, she was smiling instead, and seeing him, she curtseyed. “Your grace”, she murmured, correctly, but when he bade her straighten up, she looked directly at him. “I am very glad to see you, Uncle Richard. I prayed for your victory, and lit many candles when I heard God had listened to my prayers.”

This was the last Richard had expected, but despite being somewhat baffled, he gave her a smile. She was a sweet girl, who had given Anne much comfort in her last weeks, he knew, and he had sometimes asked himself how the Woodville witch and his loving but irresponsible brother had ever managed to create such a dutiful, calm and sweet girl.

He ardently hoped Duke Manuel would treat her right.

“I thank you, Elizabeth”, he said after a moment. “God has been just, as we must always rely on him to be.” Elizabeth nodded at that, still smiling, and Richard went on: “I do hope you and your siblings have been well.”

“Yes, Uncle Richard”, Elizabeth said, obligingly, and then: “Edward is still a bit sulky sometimes, but he likes the new tutor you employed for him and Dickon. He always teases Dickon because he was far better at Latin and French and mathematics and logic when he was his age. But Dickon plays the lute better.”

She grinned to herself, and Richard took a deep breath, tried not to show the slight stab he still always felt when his nephew Edward was mentioned to him. He knew he could not have acted differently, knew the boy could never have been king, but still he felt guilty to have been the cause of his demotion. He hadn`t even been able to blame Edward when he had cursed him when he had told him, wished the vilest death on him.

It was good to hear he slowly seemed to be coming to terms though, and even better to know he and his brother would be able to stay in England, as they would not have been able to had Tudor won.

Elizabeth was looking expectantly at him, and he shook this thought aside, asked: “Your sisters are well, too?” “Yes”, Elizabeth answered, patiently. “Cecily was annoyed because she wanted to come too, but the little ones are fine. Bridget has now learned to read her first Bible verses. She even asked me to translate what she is reading.”

Richard chuckled, thinking of the chubby toddler, Edward`s youngest, with her earnest eyes. “I shall see to it she is instructed well”, he said, and then: “You do know why you are here, Elizabeth?” He did not give her a chance to answer, going on: “You do know I have promised to find you and your sisters good matches, and as you are the oldest, you have to be married first. I have arranged a marriage for you, and it is my wish and my order you accept it.”

“I will gladly”, Elizabeth answered, with another curtesy. “As I have told you before, I will marry whoever you have chosen for me.” She paused shortly, then said: “If I may offer you my congratulations for your own upcoming marriage, I do so now.”

This was another surprise, but perhaps it should not be. After all, the whole court was talking of nothing else, and Richard bowed his head. “I thank you”, he said, and then: “Since you know of my marriage to the Infanta Joanna, you will have guessed that your husband will be her cousin, Duke Manuel.”

He was not sure what to expect, but Elizabeth simply beamed at him. “I will be most glad to accept this”, she said. “I have heard but the best of him.”

“So have I”, Richard answered, not knowing what else to say. “He will make you a most suitable husband, and is very glad of the alliance.” Pulling the message from the little sack, he handed his rather baffled niece the parchment and said: “He has written you to assure you of his gladness, and I am sure Sir Edward Brampton will be glad to tell you all about him.”

“I thank you”, his niece answered, looking at the parchment but then putting it in her sleeve, in an unconscious imitation of what he himself had done with Joanna`s letter. “When will I be leaving?”

Richard was so glad she sounded so matter of fact about it, he simply answered: “At the end of October, so you will be in Portugal by December. You will be Duke Manuel`s duchess before Christmas.”

“I am glad of that!”, Elizabeth said, before she seemed to have realised what she had just said, and quickly went on: “I will be sorry to leave my family behind, of course. But I have been hoping I would be married before I was twenty.”

“You will be that”, Richard assured her, and his niece again beamed at him. “May I confess something?”, she said then, and when Richard, baffled, nodded, she said: “I have prayed for your victory, of course, because I do care for you and the rights of this realm. But I have also prayed because I knew that if you lost, I would have had to marry Henry Tudor.” She grimaced. “I did not want to marry Henry Tudor at all. I may be a bastard, but my father was a king. He claimed to have a right to the throne that is yours, to have royal blood but he did not. I did not want to ally with him.” Lowering her voice, she added: “I have heard it said he was a coward, too, did but hide behind his uncle during the fighting until you unhorsed him.”

She seemed to be expecting a confirmation from him, so Richard said, after shortly thinking: “He did not fight more than he had to. His uncle Jasper was a traitor but courageous. The nephew was not even that, and I am glad you do not have to be married to him.”

“We share that sentiment”, Elizabeth answered, with a sudden wittiness that put Richard in mind of her father, and he laughed. “I trust you are happy with your match.”

“Yes, uncle Richard”, she said. Which she had to, of course. But Richard was certain she meant it, too.


End file.
